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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982079">Resolve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoon_spoon/pseuds/spoon_spoon'>spoon_spoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Light Angst, Refrences to tales of the SMP, This was inspired by a tweet from @emchyai go check them out, War, i have no clue how to tag this, looking back on the past, the discs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:00:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoon_spoon/pseuds/spoon_spoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet hum filled the air as the jukebox began to play. A disc had been found, and the archeologists were excited to hear the music of ancient times. </p><p>Once the sound of smooth low strings filled the air, the archaeologists were able to make a few realizations about the nature of the disc. First, this was a live recording, the faint noise of people in the background confirms it. Second, this disc was valuable, it has been kept in pristine condition for hundreds of years, making it playable by modern day standards. Third, this disc did not only contain a song. </p><p>Entirely inspired by a tweet from @emchyai</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Resolve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this in like 20 minutes after seeing this tweet from  @emchyai!<br/>https://twitter.com/emchyai/status/1353542238811217920</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A quiet hum filled the air as the jukebox began to play. A disc had been found, and the archeologists were excited to hear the music of ancient times.</p><p>Once the sound of smooth low strings filled the air, the archaeologists were able to make a few realizations about the nature of the disc. First, this was a live recording, the faint noise of people in the background confirms it. Second, this disc was valuable, it has been kept in pristine condition for hundreds of years, making it playable by modern day standards. Third, this disc did not only contain a song.</p><p>As they let the melody play out, the jukebox did not immediately begin to play the usual white noise that came with one track records. Instead, they heard what sounded like the middle of a conversation.</p><p>“C’mon Tubbo! We’re going to win this!”</p><p>“For L’manburg!”</p><p>The voices sounded almost hauntingly young. These could only be children, and best they may have reached sixteen. Before any of the observers could speak up, however, the record scratched and the voices continued speaking.</p><p>“From the beginning, it’s been you and me, and we’ve had our quarrels, but it’s been a hell of a lot of fuckin’ fun Tommy.”</p><p>“Thank you Tubbo.”</p><p>It was the same two speaking, yet they sounded older, as if the world around them had forced them to age faster than their bodies and voices would allow. A more imaginative man may picture these two sitting, and talking, and smiling. These were just two boys playing games, nobody would have sent their sons off so young to fight, right?</p><p>The track skipped again, the louder voice, the one called Tommy was speaking.</p><p>“One day, we will get ourselves out, not with violence…”</p><p>The archeologists could hear two other voices begin to argue, but it would seem that that conversation was lost to time, as the other two would remain muddled.</p><p>The track would skip again, this time, four voices danced in unison, all previously unheard.</p><p>“It was never meant to be.”</p><p>Following this line screams could be heard, many wondered what had happened to the small boys who were first recorded on this disc. It seemed that the only way to know was to keep listening.</p><p>It was the next skip where it all descended into chaos. Voices both alike and different could be heard, as if recorded from all parts, and all times, of a vast, war-torn world.</p><p>Some voices called for exile, to revoke the citizenship of a pair living in a great nation. Others would cry for blood, praising a blood god, one would beg for his memories, and one for her voice. The background noises were telling too, however, after the first cry a great wail, after the second a hearty laugh, the third a feeble whimper than a sharp intake of breath, and lastly what sounded like the striking of a match.</p><p>The record skipped, and the voices filled the room again. This time with the voices of the two young boys who had first spoken.</p><p>“What am I without you?”</p><p>The room full of researchers was able to distinguish Tommy’s voice now. The anguish and pain in his tone seemingly so far from the happy boy he once was.</p><p>“...yourself.”</p><p>The second boy, Tubbo, as Tommy called him. Answered his question with a seeming finality, one not usually seen in those not facing certain doom.</p><p>“This is checkmate Tommy, I suggest you resign.”</p><p>“Tubbo, please don't go.”</p><p>What great evils could these two boys be facing? They had not aged much since that first recording where they preemptively cheered for victory, yet here they were saying what sounded like final goodbyes.</p><p>Their voices are no deeper than the child you send off to their senior year of high school, and they were swearing to be friends until the next life. Was their country so war-stricken that these boys had never known a childhood without? Researching the past can lead you to beautiful vistas, sunsets over cliffs that you share with friends from lifetimes ago. Yet as the brushstrokes became clearer, the only picture being painted here was one of childhoods ripped away too soon, to fight wars that seemingly never ended or begun. War was simply the only state of existence, violence was their only common language.</p><p>The track skipped again, low murmurs around the room could be heard, praying that these two boys did not suffer much longer, when the voices arose.<br/>“It's about time, goodbye Tommy.” Tubbo again, the researchers noted.</p><p>Then suddenly, screaming. New people had entered the scope of the disc, and although most were too layered and dense to make out, a few lines remained clear.</p><p>“I’m sorry Dream, but you should have paid me more.”</p><p>Dream? Was that the man who was planning to kill Tubbo? Is he the villain in their history? The disc was skipping again, no matter who lived or had died there, the researchers were doomed to find out.</p><p>“Dream, I know you're not going to kill me, you don't have the guts.” It was Tommy again, he sounded cold, as if any light that he once held close to him had been ripped away long ago. This was not Tommy who cheered on his friend Tubbo in war games, or who sought peace, through words. This was a young boy shouldering the weight of man, ready to kill for the land he had always been fighting for.</p><p>“Put your armor in the hole Dream.”</p><p>Then the sounds of an axe smashing into bone, cutting away any semblance of life.</p><p>The track skips again, hopefully for the last time.</p><p>“We have them Tubbo!”</p><p>“I know I know, what the hell!”</p><p>The jubilant tone is back again. The two boys from the start of it all, a little older, but still there. They're discussing the discs, and how much they mean to them. It seems as if this world is finally at peace.</p><p>Laughter twinkles through the jukebox, the tone is light again, the dark nights of war have finally passed. This is sunrise.</p><p>Then, the jukebox begins to hum with white noise, signaling that this disc has been played through.</p><p>One man, a researcher named Issac, reached forward and opened the jukebox. Something small fluttered out the back when the panel came undone. He carefully picked it up, and smiled as he told the conference room what he held.</p><p>“It’s a picture,” he said, “a picture of two young boys who look to be about sixteen. They’re holding up two discs, and sat on a bench overlooking a cliff.”</p><p>Then Issac laughed, and continued speaking.</p><p>“They’re smiling. They're smiling like they have just saved the world.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so much for all the work on Blood, Paper, and Heart. I know this isn't the sequel many of you wanted but I hope this will keep you entertained in the meantime. As per usual comments and kudos feed my soul, so let's hope I don't starve. </p><p>Come yell at me on Twitter: @s0upsp00ns</p></blockquote></div></div>
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